


homecoming queen

by tremontaine



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Multi, OT3, PWP, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 18:44:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6162985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tremontaine/pseuds/tremontaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha got home at four in the morning, when the sky was beginning to turn slate-grey in the distance and the streets were still quiet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	homecoming queen

 

Sharon texted her the link when Natasha was almost home already, and she was so amused by it that she nearly laughed out loud. Patriotic duty, ey?

It was nearly four in the morning; the house was silent, but the kitchen light was on. Natasha kicked her boots off, hung her jacket up, decided she couldn’t face dragging her duffle upstairs with her, and wandered through the downstairs rooms, a lazy but habitual sweep of her territory before she went to bed. James said it reminded him of his mother’s cat, apparently a sleek, imperious tabby who had considered everything her eye fell upon to be her personal property, and liked to inspect said property on a regular basis, but James was a hypocrite: if she didn’t do it, she knew, he would himself. Steve always checked the upstairs rooms.

Nothing was out of place. The French windows were locked, the shutters down; the kitchen door was locked. Mugs and teaspoons in the sink, a glass on the draining board. Leftovers in the fridge appeared to be gammon and potatoes; Natasha fetched a knife out of the drawer and cut herself a slice of meat. Licking her greasy fingers, she went back along the corridor to the living room: order, unless you counted the books and newspapers that tended to cover every flat surface a mess. She didn’t, really. It made it home, to see the things they read and enjoyed and were interested in scattered about. Steve’s sketchbook was on the arm of the couch, a pencil on the floor. She put both on the coffee table and went upstairs.

Darkness here too. Steady breathing in their bedroom. Something was squirming in her stomach, relief or anticipation or both: she was twelve hours early, and it was so good to be home. How to wake them? She could just crawl into bed and sleep beside them, but – but she wanted to be seen, spoken to, kissed, held. Four in the morning: not a witching hour but a ghostly one, when it was all too easy to move through the house you shared with your lovers and think that there was no real _need_ for you at all, no actual pressing necessity…

Natasha pushed the door open, shivering a little. The candles in the corner were burning low: there had once been a candelabra there perched on a stool, but it was slowly becoming a small mountain of dripped wax instead. None of them much liked sleeping in the dark, and it was impractical too: there were nightmares, and what if they were ever attacked?

On the bed, Steve was on his back, head turned towards James on his left, sound asleep, shirtless but wearing sweatpants; the covers had tangled somewhere around their thighs. Natasha didn’t understand how they did that. She liked her duvet up around her shoulders and tucked firmly in, thank you and good night. James, wearing boxers and a muscle shirt, was lying on his right side, facing Steve, left hand resting on Steve’s hip, but they weren’t otherwise touching. There was room between them, just the right amount of room, as if they were waiting for her. Sleep safely tucked against Steve’s side, anchored by the weight of James’s arm across her hips… she put her knee on the mattress and crawled up towards them slowly, slowly, careful not to wake them, she –

James was watching her through his eyelashes. Apart from opening his eyes a little, he hadn’t moved. Natasha stuck her tongue out at him, and he laughed, low and scratchy.

“One day,” she said. “One day I’ll get you.”

“Welcome home,” he said, all sleep-rough and deep and loving, and quite suddenly sleep was the last thing on her mind.

They had a rule, or at least a habit: after away missions, whoever had been out on their own got the middle when they came home.

Natasha clenched her hand in the sheets a little. Then, grinning, she kept on crawling, slowly now, made sure her hips and her ass swung just the right way. She knew her shirt was gaping open; her hair – unbrushed though it was – was falling appealingly around her face, and she confidently expected to make quite the picture…

James laughed again, appreciative. “You want something, baby girl?”

There it was. It would be vixen in a minute – kitten – sugar – baby love – sweet thing, sweetheart, sweet girl. Other things too, things even worse than that slightly silly, slightly dirty nonsense: beloved, dear one, heart’s own, heart’s dearest, heart’s delight, darling love, dearest darling, my heart, my love, my soul, my joy. Those things weren’t teasing, and couldn’t be laughed off… Natasha said softly, “Might be I do,” and then, because Steve’s bare warm chest was so near, she bent her head and kissed it, her hair trailing across his skin, across James’ left arm: his abs – the groove between his pectorals – his skin tasted a little sweaty, and the heat of him drove her a little bit crazy, made her flush after the chill of the journey home. She licked at Steve’s right nipple, soft, kittenish licks until it was tightened, hardened, goosebumps on his skin; then his left, but now he was awake, burying his hands in her hair, cupping her head.

“Tasha,” he said, just as gravelly as James; oh, oh, oh. She balanced herself above him with her hands on either side of his chest and suckled at his nipple till she felt him squirm underneath her, sighing; James’ hand was on the back of her thigh, just beneath her ass, but he didn’t seem in a hurry to go anywhere else. That was – that made her hot, the promise of it, and the certainty. Finally Steve tugged at her, and she followed the pull of his hands to that lush hot mouth that opened under hers sweet and slow like butter wouldn’t melt; for a few moments the illusion held, and then he nipped at her lower lip and suckled on it and she sighed in delight and let him take the kiss deeper, make it dirty. Her breath was coming quick, and her stomach was hollow; there was a building ache between her thighs that she relished.

“Welcome back,” he said when she pulled away. “What’s going on?”

Natasha kissed his chin, his jaw, the hollow between his collar bones. “Same old, same old.” Suddenly she remembered Sharon’s text, and sniggered. “My bounden duty to the sisterhood of all women everywhere.”

“What,” said James.

“Buzzfeed,” said Natasha, and both of them groaned; she had to raise her voice over their protests. “ _Buzzfeed_ has voted you – stop that – Buzzfeed has voted you the top spot in its list of superheroes to have threesomes with, and then it went on to say that if Agent Romanov hasn’t already tapped that she’s failing her duties as a woman and an American citizen –“

“You’re ruining the mood,” Steve said, laughing helplessly; James was in stitches, his face hidden in the pillows.

“I’m going to take a selfie of us post-sex and Snapchat them,” said Natasha. “ _Mission accomplished_.”

“Oh my god.”

“Stop!”

“You took Stark off the list because you said he was off the market and all good things came to an end, now you can take Rogers and Barnes off the list and mark them off limits or suffer my displeasure.”

“Tash!”

“But if you wanted to send me that photo you used to illustrate your point I would be happy to receive – mmph!” She squeaked indignantly when Steve gripped her tighter and tumbled her into the space between him and James; a hand caught her flailing left wrist – her right being trapped underneath her – and held it immobile while Steve stroked her curls out of her face and kissed her again, punishingly.

“You’re terrible.”

“You’re no fun.” She pouted.

Steve looked at James. “I’m no fun? Me?”

“Well it depends on context,” James said fairly. He’d slung his thigh over Natasha’s to trap her, the weight delicious, the heat of his skin burning her through her thin jeans. “F’r’instance, right now you could be getting that top off of her.” Natasha snorted.

“That’s true.” Steve kissed her again, consideringly; then he attacked the buttons of her blouse one-handed, sliding his fingers under the fabric and caressing her skin before he hit each button: first, just between her breasts, second, just below her bra, third, just above her navel, forth, just above her waistband. There she’d tucked the shirt in, and he said, “That’ll do,” and flattened his hand on her abdomen, sliding it back up to her bra, following with his mouth.

“No front catch?” James murmured in her ear.

“Where do you think I buy my underwear?” Natasha said, aware her voice was – uneven: this was Steve’s fault, he was probably ruining her bra, pushing the cup aside like that to lick her breast. James kissed her ear, the corner of her jaw, her neck; their fingers were laced together just above his shoulder.

“I don’t know, Macy’s?”

“Not everything in the world can be or should be bought at Macy’s,” said Natasha breathlessly.

“Heresy,” he said, grinning, and kissed her on the mouth this time, lovely and drawn-out and fierce, demanding a response, a reaction; she was too perfectly trapped to even writhe very much, though she did knock Steve in the side of the head with her elbow, which sent everyone into giggles. Super-coordinated physically enhanced superheroes, they were. But it was short work to yank everyone’s clothes, or remaining clothes, off – for a moment Steve trapped her wrists behind her back with the blouse and held her on her knees for James to kiss and kiss and kiss; then it was gone, and the bra was gone, hot skin against her and James’ chest hair a little scratchy against her nipples, big hands – a little cool – kneading her ass. She’d wrapped her arms around James’ neck, content to kneel here on the bed like this forever…

Steve stroked her hair into a loose ponytail, twisted it aside so he could kiss her shoulder, the nape of her neck. “What do you want?”

“God,” said Natasha. “Don’t make me think.” That made them both laugh, a little, even as she leaned against Steve’s shoulder and watched them kiss. Steve’s knees were between hers, his cock trapped against the small of her back; James’ was brushing her stomach, smearing pre-come on her skin. “Whatever’s easiest.”

“Come on then,” James said at last, and dropped her on her front in the pillows, ran his hands over her back as she laughed. “Take care’a you just right, sweetheart…”

“More?” said Steve; she heard them kiss again, and James said, “No, I’m fine – ah, _Steve_ –” that breathy little noise he made when you put your fingers or your cock inside him. Steve laughed a little, that sweet surprised noise he still always made, as if he couldn’t believe they were letting him do this; it always, always got her wet. Natasha squirmed, impatient, wanting, and got James’ hands on her again almost at once, stroking her flanks, her thighs, parting her legs for him. “Yeah. C’mon up, baby girl.”

God she hated how hot she found those stupid endearments. Natasha pushed up to her knees, pushed her hips into the waiting curve of his hands, sighed into the pillows when he tilted her just right and his cock slid against her slit: she was wet and swollen open and aching for him. She folded her arms on the mattress and sank her head onto them; a hand – Steve – caressed her side, ran up her body to her right breast and cupped it, fondled her lazily.

“Guys,” she said, biting back a moan; combined with the sweet friction of James’ cockhead rubbing against her cunt that soft caress was really _very_ unfair.

“Shush.” Steve flicked his thumb against her nipple, and laughed when she moaned for it. “Just another minute…”

“Been a while since I`ve gotten to look at you,” James added innocently.

“On my face in the pillows with my ass in the air?” Natasha said sweetly.

“Well, yeah.”

She laughed helplessly, felt Steve kiss her spine; then James pushed inside her, moving slow, fucking her open, big and hot and lovely. Natasha spread her legs wider, gasping softly; it felt like forever since – since. He was brushing just right against her sweet spot, always easiest from behind like this, and when he pulled out she could feel her body clinging to him, dragging at him. In again, jolting her a little, harder than before; he gasped himself; Steve, then, inside him.

A few ragged thrusts, both of them fighting to set the pace; a breathless laugh, and the sound of another kiss; all Natasha had to do was lie and close her eyes and take it, take them. Then they had it, a slow roll forward and back, fucking each other, fucking her; she squirmed and sighed and picked up on it as they settled in, moving with them, pushing back. Over and over and over; sweat sprang up on her skin, and she dug her knees into the mattress, thighs straining as her orgasm came closer. James was talking, sweet dirty nonsense, how tight she was, how good Steve felt. Steve said, once, “You’re beautiful, you’re both –” and fell silent; usually he was worse than James, but sometimes he liked to just – just be.

James’ hands tight and steady on her hips; heat and the sound of their heavy breathing, the increasingly obscene noise of them fucking as the pace grew quicker; the sheets smelled of sex and sweat, of detergent and lotion – of home, in short – Natasha clenched her hands in them, moaning now. “Yes,” she said, as James hit her sweet spot just right, “yes, oh, do that again, harder, harder, c’mon, gimme it, missed you so much…”

“Home now, darling, we’ve got you, c’mon, love you so –”

Yes, yes – she was – her whole body was trembling – she dragged her hand through the sheets and touched herself, stroked her cunt, getting her fingers wet, stroked James’ cock as he moved inside her and laughed when he moaned – then she touched her clit, rubbed circles over it; Steve was groaning harshly, and James said, “Yeah, Steve – want you to, come on –”

So close. Her thighs were shaking, and she could barely breathe; then Steve’s cry, and filthy encouragement from James: Natasha rubbed at herself again, and then – her body shaking –

James was last, fingers spasming tight on her hips, his body bowing over hers; Steve pitched to the side and fell into the pillows beside her as James gasped and clung to her, the hot pulse of him inside her and the movement of his body setting off sweet aftershocks that shuddered through her. As her breathing slowed she started to laugh, delighted, and laughed even harder when James dropped on top of Steve.

“Agh. Christ you’re heavy.”

“That’s an unwarranted personal remark,” said James, laughing too, running his hand over Natasha’s back. She dropped back to the mattress and stretched her aching legs out, sighing contentedly.

“And you’re still heavy,” said Steve, squirming sideways. “Here!” He pushed James off him sideways so he nearly fell onto Natasha, who said, “Don’t you dare,” and then yawned hugely. “Oh!”

“Sweet good night,” said James, still chuckling.

“It’s actually morning,” said Steve. “Go to sleep, Nat…”

“Yeah.” She sighed, bringing a hand up to rub at her eyes. “Love you.”

“You too.”

James just kissed her forehead. Steve dragged the duvet up over her body; the cool cotton kissed her sweaty skin. She was exhausted, she realised suddenly; the warm relaxed hum that orgasm had set in her veins was sending her straight to sleep, though usually she’d want to shower first. James put his arm across her hips; she felt Steve kneeling over them, bend to kiss her temple, and put up a hand to touch his face; he kissed that too, she felt his smile against her palm before he dropped back to the mattress on James’ other side.

After a few minutes, floating happily on the edge of sleep, Natasha opened her eyes again. “Hey, I didn’t get the middle!”

“Whaaat?”

“Huh?”

She laughed again, tired and delighted. “Nothing. I’m disappointing Buzzfeed. Nothing.” And then, because it was true, “I’m so glad to be back.”

 

 

 


End file.
